The Death of Mordred
by Fraser1504
Summary: An ancient tribe of druids threaten Camelot and intend upon destroying it at all costs. Only Arthur along with his trusty servant Merlin can save the day. But will they be too late? Set at the start of Series 1.


Warning! This chapter contains child scarifications. But apart from that enjoy reading it and the rest of the story will focus on Merlin and Arthur.

The luminous moon shone brightly in the sky, radiating light to all four corners of the earth. The stars were dwarfed by this brightness, ignored by the splendor that took centre stage. It illuminated the ground, casting light that only amplified the senses of the people that were gathering before it. A cold chill gripped the air, freezing the ground and swiftly sending the scavenging animals back to their den. But the group of Druids stood their ground.

These weren't just any Druids... They were the Beelzebub, an ancient tribe and sworn enemies of Camelot. They weren't normal Druids who tried to live in peace despite the price tag placed upon them by King Uther Pendragon. No, these were the hardened warriors who repelled the forces of Camelot time after time. They were once the most powerful people in the land but time and corruption had before long put an end to that. Now, they had dwindled in numbers and very few people had set their sight upon them, and those who did, did not live long enough to report their sightings.

They had gathered for their annual festival at the Isle of the Blessed, at the winter solstice. It had been a perennial tradition that had been carried father after son, generation after generation. It was to be a present to the goddess Elvira, who was the mistress of the devil. They believed she had the power to sway the devil himself, so that they would be safe from his clutches. This of course, didn't protect them from when the time of them living in this world was over.

A frail, debilitated man walked to the front of crowd and placed a transparent crystal upon the sacrificial alter. Alongside the alter, was a teepee of finely cut wood which stood taller then any person. An uneasy quietness fell over the crowd as they prepared themselves for this monumental event. Elderly people who were well accustomed to this were intrigued about the speech which came before the event. Whereas a young boy, was nervous and sweating even in the freezing air as he had no idea what to expect.

"When I first placed my eyes upon here," spoke the old man in a husky voice, "The hallways were more beautiful and spectacular than any other palace or castle I have been in. It was crawling with women, men and children who lived, worked and played here. These sorcerers and high priestesses lived in a safe haven of magic; even the very air was perfumed by it. Anyone approaching it could smell the magic from the lake as it was like no other aroma."

After this first opening statement, the old man mulled over his words, choosing them carefully as every one of them was about to change the land for good. The crowd were mesmerised by his every word as they had never been told about the past of this sacred place. They had heard stories... rumours of this place but that was set eons ago. Could he really have lived for the last a thousand years and witnessed the reign of magic at its height?

"This very island was teeming with life and prosperity with unlimited power which reached the sky. But its power and glory was short lived. About two centuries ago, an epic war waged between steel and magic which no one could escape. It was the war of all wars, there will never be another one to match it. But we can change the fate of the life that presents itself to us and our children and shape it to our needs. We can make this island teem with life again, restore it to its full beauty and destroy Uther's Camelot. It is down to us to right the wrongs that Uther has cast upon our kind and only we can unite this world where magic can rule once more!"

He pulled out of his pocket a lily in full bloom and placed it carefully on the alter and picked up a mortar and pestle which had been lying on the floor. The sweet smell of life hung heavily in the air and slowly wafted into the surroundings. This scent was soon eradicated as the lily was placed in the mortar and ground up with the pestle by the priest. Finishing the task was no easy task for him and it left him breathless and panting for air. He sprayed the ground lily upon the crystal and whispered,

"Nova lilium enim herba fascinum"

The crystal glowed ruby for a moment, giving the surroundings a red gleam that was far from natural.

It then dissipated into the night, and returned to its original, tranquil presence. Smiling slightly, the priest seemed to be satisfied with the progress with the ceremony so far, knowing that the climax was yet to come. This was the day when he took his place in the history books, and there wasn't anything that could stop him now.

A breeze full of icy cols air rippled through the sky, blowing all the plants that dwelled there to and fro and sent a cold shiver down their spines. It was lucky that they had an enchantment around the sacrificial alter other wise the ground-up lily would have been sent spiraling into the distance. An eerie silence cast itself across the land, in preparation for the evil which was about to take place. Even the very air seemed to hold its breath.

"It's time." His voice echoed out across the Island, reverberating off the ruins that had lay there for many centuries. With a lethargic motion, he pulled a two inch long, gold lined knife and placed it down. Its beauty was like no other as the handle was laced with diamond and pearls which shone in the moonlight, giving out its own light. This was the knife of the Beelzebub, and few had ever seen such beauty preserved in a single object. Well, apart from the crystal that lay beside which was actually taken from the Crystal cave where the very essence of magic began.

"For a thousand years, the tradition of the annual sacrifice to Elvira has protected our people from the devil. Or so we thought. Yet it does not stop our friends, families from perishing like everyone else in this world. So I asked myself why? Why is that despite our annual ritual do we not get any favour in return from the devil that controls the other world? And I think I have found the answer. That is why this year, I have proposed a change to the sacrifice. Instead of two grown up bulls, a child shall be used!"

A murmur greeted this news as this was magic of the darkest kind and even they were frightened to consort with it. This was a massive gamble which they all knew. Either the devil would be grateful of the human soul and protect them even better then he had done before, or he would be infuriated by the death of a child and would try to reap his revenge.

"Bring forth the child!" The demand seemed cold and harsh, even in this unforgiving world. A small boy, with massive aqua eyes proceeded to the front of the gathering. He was shaking uncontrollably but not from the lack of warmth. He was to be getting an award, he had been told. An award and prize so great that he would be remembered throughout all of time for this one act. He had no idea of what the old man had spoke as he could not speak in the tongue of the Druids and was reassured when the man gave him a smile; well it was more like a grimace.

"Another year has passed. May I thank the devil, guardian of the other world for choosing us to remain among this world while he steals others instead. It is time to repay him and grant him his gift so that he may do the same again for this year." With this he placed his hand upon the shoulders of the boy, and turned him so that his back was facing the crowd. Picking up the knife he whispered,

"Puer enim diabolus se diu tueatur"

With this he thrust the knife in an upwards motion and a piercing, bloodcurdling scream shot into the night. It was a sound to behold and was the first time such a noise graced the world. Pulling out the knife with blood dripping off it, he scraped it along the crystal which instantly glowed a burning yellow. It was like a beacon in the sky; the light it gave out was blinding and forced the onlookers to cover their eyes. Quickly realising that people for miles around would see the unnatural glow, he placed a cloth on top of it, preventing the light from escaping.

Several young men then picked up the corpse and placed it through the hole in the pile of wood which lay beside the man who said the magic word "Ignis!" At once it burst into flames, bathing its surroundings in a glorious warmth heating the very air like a furnace. He picked up the crystal with both the flower remains and blood and chucked it upon the fire. The moment it came in contact with the flames, an explosion was heard but the crystal had vanished.

"It is done," he pronounced solemnly, the death of the innocent child had not impacted him at all. The crowd swayed with what had just happened and began to breathe again. "We must leave this place and travel north into the mountains as we caused quite a spectacle a wait for the magic to come into effect. We have no reason to stay here anymore."

With that, they began to depart the scene with then hurrying towards the shore of the island. But a single figure in the shadows remained behind, and took a sample of the charcoaled mess that remained and slipped it into their pocket. They then ventured in the opposite direction of the Druids, making their way to the powerful kingdom of Camelot. The hooded figure merged in with the shadows to become one and ventured almost invisible to the shore of the mainland.

The moon glowed vermillion, an omen of what was to wait for the world. It was a rare occurrence that had last occurred before the Great War, and represented the immediate death of many to the demon-world. This was why kings and peasants alike woke up in fear of what the world was warning them against.


End file.
